


Between Us

by kickcows, misomilk



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Rare Pairings, Sex, are the fuckin best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/pseuds/kickcows, https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomilk/pseuds/misomilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Sebastian nor Charles could find sleep, and so in the dead of night they agree: whatever happens tonight shall stay between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> First co-write collab with my beloved, kickcows-senpai~!!! /throws heart-shaped planets at her  
> What started as roleplay for co-writing practice for the upcoming FFXV week ended up as a 10K monster of a fic. Omg. What have we done? Ahahaha.
> 
> I have to apologize for my lengthy parts, which I suppose tipped our balance. (SORRY SENPAI.) And kickcows says sorry for her writing. Every word here however has been written down with all of both our hearts. *W*
> 
> Enjoy reading~
> 
> kickcows as Charles Phipps  
> misomilk as Sebastian Michaelis

The middle of the night is the hours Sebastian feels most at peace. With his master put to sleep, and even his troublemaker fellow staff all in slumber, he can do the most work in these silent hours, whether it’s fixing documents for the young master, or wiping windows. Tonight, however, for they have guests over, he prevents himself from such activities, careful not to disturb them. Instead, he walks around the estate, finding simple comfort in the darkness that envelopes him. Everything still.

Until he hears a nearby door creak open. With a wave of his hand he procures a candelabra, blowing fire unto its tips. He turns to face the guest standing at the door, the light glowing yellow orange upon his pale face. “Is there anything troubling you, Master Phipps? Had my steps awoken you?”

Blinking against the sudden light that he’s not expecting, Charles takes a moment to let his eyes adjust. When his vision becomes clear, he sees that it’s the young Earl’s butler standing in the hallway. His head swims, not because of the light, but because of the alcohol that he had had too much of earlier in the evening. ‘Just one more,’ his partner had said to him, as plate after plate of food disappeared into his mouth. Charles kept up with the drinks, which seemed to flow from an endless supply (just how much liquor does a 13 year old really need?), that somehow wound up in his body.

He keeps his face blank, hoping that the young Earl’s butler does not sense there is something amiss with him. He does not want the Queen to know that he’s in the situation he’s in. “No, Mr. Michaelis. I have yet to go to sleep, so I was not asleep.” His hand lands on the knot at his waist, the night robe that had been provided barely covering his lengthy torso.

“Is that so?” Sebastian voices with the concern expected from a butler like himself. He assesses the truth to the guest’s statement. The knot between white brows, easy to distinguish when Sebastian is used to seeing the Queen’s butler’s face without a hint of emotion, seems to prove the guest’s discomfort. Perhaps some tea would help relax the other, let the warmth and smell of lavender ease him to slumber. Or perhaps the alcohol the guest’s cohort had forced unto him (as Sebastian recalls now, was simply far too much) still takes its toll on him. In which case, a few fun ideas to relieve the guest runs through Sebastian’s mind. He shakes the thoughts away.

The butler presses, trying not to gaze upon the guest’s artistic build, barely covered by the night robe. He keeps his eyes upon clear blue. “Would you like to have tea to relax you?”

Hypnotized by the man’s maroon irises, Charles can only nod his head. He closes his eyes briefly, to will away the sudden wave of vertigo that seizes him. Placing his hand on the knob of the door, he begins to turn himself towards it. “Please, allow me to make myself more presentable? I should not be longer than five minutes.”

Sebastian feels a rush he can’t quite understand go through him when the man before him closes his eyes for a moment. _What a work of art, this human._  he thinks. He is not sure what this rush is, but he is sure that by the way it pulls his nerves tight, he is displeased with the idea of this guest putting on more clothes. He wants them gone. He wants to see the aesthetics of this man and feel them under his skin.

“Please, Master Phipps. You need not go with me.” He says courteously, walking towards his guest. He moves with grace, putting an arm around the other’s waist to guide him. He makes sure the candlelight falls upon the other’s face when he continues looking into blue orbs. “Your lack of slumber seems to be affecting you. Please allow me to assist you to bed, where you may wait and rest until I return with tea.”

Feeling the warmth of the man’s lithe body, Charles finds himself leaning against him for support as he’s led back into his bedroom. “I assure you, this is not necessary.” He can hear the slight slur to his words, and curses his body for acting in a way he does not want this man to see. The Queen’s butler cannot be seen in such a fashion, and for the Queen’s Watchdog’s butler to be the one to see him in such a fashion makes his cheeks grow warm.

“I cannot lay down,” he mumbles quietly. “That is the reason I got up before you happened upon me, Mr. Michaelis. So, if it is alright with you, I would prefer to sit on one of chairs in his room.” He does not bother to shy away from the man, and instead feels a little powerless as his shoulder rests under his arm, albeit a little uncomfortably, as he is taller than him. But the warmth that the butler provides, the uncomfortableness is a fleeting thought.

The way the other’s man slurs his words makes Sebastian chuckle, though he thankfully stops himself before it fell from his mouth.

“Alright,” Sebastian obliges the man’s request. He walks him to the chaise situated by the window. He enjoys the feel of this human’s warmth against his side as they walk. He breathes in the other’s scent, a lovely, manly musk. He sets down the candelabra before he assists Master Phipps to sit comfortably. “Pleased, Master Phipps?”

He notices, before the man replies, that the nightrobe has been loosened when the man sat down, revealing more of the other’s torso. He swallows at the pleasing sight, though he’d tried not to, and he starts fixing the other’s robe from the collar downwards, the glove on his thumb brushing against warm, fair skin.

A soft grunt expels from Charles’ mouth at the soft touch of linen against his neck. He shifts slightly on the chaise, unaware of how the nightrobe is fixed. His skin tingles where the butler had just touched, and there’s a voice inside of his head telling him to try to do something to feel that touch once more. It’s pleasant, and distracts him from how he’s currently feeling. Which, he honestly can’t remember how he’s feeling.

Leaning back against the chaise, he feels his eyelids starting to close on their own. Deciding that perhaps this position would not do, he sits up, keeping his back against the length of the chaise, swinging his feet to rest on the ground. “Will you still be getting tea, Mr. Michaelis?” He asks, his throat parched, mouth gone dry. Whether it is from the alcohol, or from the sudden heat that he seems to feel staring at this man’s inhuman maroon eyes, Charles does not know. He licks his lips subconsciously, as he’s drawn into his eyes once more.

It’s like torture, watching this man lean into the chaise, observing how his robe slides against his skin with every movement. The need to touch the man before him, follow the contours of his blessed body with his fingers, simply increases with every passing second.

When Master Phipps asks him a question, the man’s voice dry, coated with a certain desire the demon is most definitely familiar with, Sebastian tries his hardest not to smile wickedly. Deep inside, a warmth grows.

“Perhaps I should.” He answers what he’s been asked truthfully. He _should_ leave and get tea. It is what is expected of his role, granted it is he who had offered tea in the first place. But he knows, with the way Master Phipps licks his lips, this human would rather have something else. “But, if I may ask, would you really rather I get tea now, Master Phipps?” He ends his sentence with a finger lightly rubbing against the robe’s collar, teasing hints of his touch against actual skin. “Perhaps you desire something… else?”

“What are you implying, Mr. Michaelis?” Charles finds himself trying to discreetly shrug the loose cloth around him off, so that he may feel the touch of the butler’s glove against his skin. “Are you suggesting that there is something other than tea that I might want?”

His bottom lip gets sucked into his mouth, his canine incisor clutching to his bottom lip, as he inhales slow. He blinks, surprised to see his own hand has landed on the lapel of the young Earl’s butler, pulling him closer towards his body. So close that he can feel the butler’s breath on his face.

Sebastian’s eyes shimmer with the passion he feels pooling in his gut. He sees Master Phipps’ face bathed in crimson light before he remembers to catch himself, push down his demon form, return eyes to maroon.

He reminds himself he cannot eat this human soul. He’s a pawn his young master can use. But he certainly can _partake_  of him in a different way.

Sebastian then takes notice that the other tries to shrug the cloth off of him. He grins, the pull of his lips showing his smugness. “I do wonder… Is that what I seem to suggest?” He chuckles, voice playful in tone, his breath falling upon the other’s lips as he leans closer. His hand falls firmly onto the other’s shoulder to keep him from shrugging the cloth off. No, he won’t give him that relief. Not until Master Phipps admits what he wants.

The demon sets his knee on the chaise, rubs against the outer of Master Phipps’ left thigh. “I would rather you tell me if there is anything I may do for you, Master Phipps. As you are a guest of this household, I am to serve you, and I am one hell of a servant.”

His knees spread apart to allow the butler to invade his space. Or, maybe he was welcoming the intrusion, for that same burning touch that he felt on his chest earlier seems to be manifesting on his thigh. Black bangs frame this man’s face, and his eyes. His _eyes_. Did they just burst into flame, or was that a trick of the light? Or, was it the alcohol, manifesting into something that he knows surely cannot be real.

“S-Serve me? As in, procure some of that tea you spoke of earlier?” The back of his head comes to rest on the back of the chaise, his eyelids drooping a little. “I am not sure what you speak of, Mr. Michaelis.”

Unexpectedly, the knot that has been holding his robe in place comes undone, making the fabric part wide open, revealing his naked torso. His white underwear seems to gleam in the soft candlelight. But Charles does not notice; he’s too enraptured by the nearness of the Phantomhive butler. HIs breath keeps catching in his throat, the more he feels his body relax, almost wanting to pull the butler closer to his body; to feel that warmth that seems to be emanating from him.

Strange, Sebastian thinks. This man continues to open himself up to him, with how wide his legs spread, and how he melts into the chaise once his robe has been pulled open. And yet-- And yet he does not relent. His mouth does not spill the desires Sebastian tries to urge from him.

Why does he feign he does not know what he wants, when the demon can sense them bubbling in his blood? It intrigues Sebastian. Can a human be so pure as not to acknowledge such carnal desires? Or is it that Master Phipps merely is still libated by the alcohol from the night before? (Mere hours ago, really.) He decides to test theory.

Sebastian lets his knees fall to the floor. "Perhaps an actual example would help show you." He says, pressing his face unto the soft, white fabric of the Queen's butler's underwear as his eyes keep locked with blue. He inhales intoxicating musk, never have had smelled such an alluring manly scent in his long existence. He bites softly unto the material, careful with his fangs (for now), while his tongue searches for the heat enclosed beneath.

Eyes close completely, unable to keep staring into those maroon orbs for fear of breaking down completely. His head tilts back as a low groan emits from his throat. Without course of action, his hand hovers over the top of the butler's head. His body feels flushed, as if the fire that's slowly disappearing in the fireplace has been rekindled and set ablaze. 

"M-Mr Michaelis," he ignores how his words sound as if he's out of breath. "What are you doing?"  He moves his hovering hand to lay flat on the cushion of the chaise, fingertips digging into the soft material. 

The hot breath, the delicate bite. He can feel the heat begin to pool lower in his body, to a place that has not been considered in quite some time. If this man is offering what he thinks he's offering, would he be ungrateful to the man's service? Surely the Phantomhive butler is just trying to make sure his master's guests are comfortable. That must be it.

How exquisite are the features of this man before him? The way the moon casts his light upon him, his hair shining like true silver strands. The elegance his face holds when his eyes are shut closed. The allure of that beauty mark by his lips.

“What are you doing?” asks Master Phipps.

Indeed, what is this that he is doing? What has overcome him? How could he let desires bubble in him, and slowly take control of him? The demon himself hasn’t felt a carnal hunger of this intensity in a long, long while.

“I only seek to relieve you, Master Phipps.” His fingers tuck unto the band of the guest’s underwear as he kisses the underwear where he’s sure the tip of the thickening arousal lies beneath. The demon longs to taste liquid that’s sure to come out of it if he keeps spurring these urges from within Master Phipps. (And as a demon, for sure, Sebastian _will_  keep summoning these pleasures.)

“May I remove this? I believe it is troubling you?” His fingers tug lightly upon the cloth, but not enough to move it downward. He tests his patience, excited to hear the man’s sweet ‘Yes’, an admission and promise of debasement they could partake of.

Torn between doing what is right, and what his body seems to want, Charles opens his eyes, the vision before him a little blurry. Letting his eyelids flutter a few times, it clears his vision enough to see the man's hand on his waist, dangerously close to his growing _problem_. 

He looks into the butler's eyes, and holds his gaze, silence ticking away. He must make the decision, to either proceed forward with this offered dalliance, or announce that he wishes to retire to the bed, and to be left alone. The war inside of his head takes too long, his mind wishing to be the prevalent victor, but it is the internal desire for the man between his legs that wins in the end.

"This stays between us." Reaching down, his hand guides the Phantomhive servant to pull his underwear down, heart pounding fast.

Sebastian could rip the other’s arms off, that tender, truthful lust in his voice when he says “This stays between us.” the ‘sprinkle on top’ as the demon devours this precious soul completely. He could, and it would tempt him so, granted how appetizing this soul seems to be, yet that is the farthest from Sebastian’s mind.

Instead, he focuses on the warm hand that guides his own to unwrap this gift before him. He observes the dark hue that colors the man’s eyes as he admits defeat to his prurient impulse. Sebastian had felt it. This man’s internal struggle between what was expected of him, of his role, and what he as a human being desired. And, oh, was it ever so exhilaratingly enchanting. Watching the fall of man, feeling it right underneath his fingertips. (If only he could remove his gloves.)

Three hands guide soft fabric down the other’s thighs, Sebastian’s gloved hands sliding against smooth, taut skin as they do so. The demon’s mouth drops in awe at the other’s girth, swallows at how proud it stands. He immediately kisses it, at the base of it where his lips are nearest, does not even wait for underwear to be fully pulled off. His tongue darts out to lightly lick it with the tip of his tongue, sampling a taste of this thick muscle. His eyes burn crimson. How could a human taste so… _delicious_.

Inhaling sharply, Charles' fingers claw the edge of the couch, his hand no longer on the butler's. He leans his head further back, hanging over the edge of the chaise, Adam's apple protruding from his neck. Even though he's willingly put himself into this situation, the first touch of those lips on his thickening arousal has him moaning low. When he feels the gentle lick, a visceral moan is pulled from his throat, as he pushes his hips forward, looking to feel that soft tongue against his sensitive skin.

He spreads his knees apart, the delicate touch of those gloved fingers on his thighs making his skin burn. Lifting his head, he looks down at the man between this thighs, another low moan falling from his lips as another swift lick caresses the crown of his prick. He sees the fire reflected in the man's eyes, making them appear crimson, further fueling the internal desire to feel more of this man. 

His places his palms on the top of his gloved hands, fingers gripping onto the sides of his hands, as his arousal stands at its fullest, tip still just barely in reach of the butler's lips.

Sebastian blows gently upon the tip of the other’s arousal, taking delight in how the man before him hisses. He watches the other’s blue eyes observe him, makes sure he sees those eyes grow darker as his lips close in towards the tip of the other’s arousal. When close enough, he softly licks the tip, dips the top of his tongue to the small hole where he expects fluid to spurt forth soon. He wraps his lips upon the other’s crown, starts sucking. He feels the grip on his hands grow tighter when he does. His tongue dances circles upon the salty tip, and he groans when the first drip of precum falls unto his tongue.

His eyes grow brighter, shining red even when he closes his eyes to focus on this human’s frighteningly addictive taste. He sucks harder, doesn’t notice himself start to take more of the other’s length into his mouth, keeping a solid, hasty pace.

Fingers release their grip on the butler's wrists, and instead find themselves entangling in the dark raven locks of his hair. Charles waits for a look, afraid that he's overstepping the unspoken boundaries they've set between themselves. There appears to be no change from him, giving Charles the confidence to push his fingers through his hair, gently gripping onto the follicles. 

He untangles his left hand from the butler's hair, finding purchase on the back of the chaise. He pushes himself up, now standing, the butler between his thighs moving to accommodate the  new position, now balanced on his knees. Charles' hand threads through raven locks, as he pushes his hips forward, moaning low as he feels the wet warmth surround his arousal. 

"M-Mr....Michaelis..." He moans low, head dropping forward, eyes shut closed as he partakes in this hedonistic pleasure.

The feel of fingers in his hair is enthralling. Given that the young master loves to do this to his hair, too, it feels different when an adult male does it. He focuses on the thickness of Master Phipps’ fingers, which he appreciates more now against his scalp than against his hand mere moments before. He enjoys their warmth, and soft touch, feeling much like the weak tickle of human curses and rituals attempting to summon his demon interest.

Yet Master Phipps, with a mere touch, spurs more of Sebastian’s desire than he’d known himself to possess in the past few centuries.

Sebastian lightly whimpers complaint when one hand parts from his hair. He quickly misses the touch. He is slightly surprised when Master Phipps motions to stand, but he adjusts his position accordingly so, not wanting to part even an inch from the delicious girth within his mouth. With this new position, he further loosens his throat, makes use of the fact he does not need to breathe to stay alive. He lets the other thrust into him at the pace he desires.

He moans around the other’s throbbing arousal when he further senses the desire riling up in the other’s nerves. He takes pleasure in how Master Phipps, this man of white, this man typically of proper decorum, continues to fall prey to these lecherous pleasures. Never had Sebastian imagined this human with such a pristine image could thrust with abandonment into his awaiting mouth. He grants him a prize, to affirm his falling from purity (and to pull him further away).

His left hand unfastens the button of his right hand glove, then lightly pulls off each finger, inch per inch, until he could pull it off freely. He lets the glove drop to the floor, his hand tracing a path from Master Phipps’ left knee, going up to his buttocks. The man seems to shiver under his raw touch, and he delights in the new layer of desire growing in his veins. With a wave of his ungloved hand, it is lubricated with oil. He touches around the man’s behind to search for his ass hole, and when Sebastian finds it, he takes no hesitation to insert a slick finger.

With the thumb and forefinger of his left, he massages a sac hanging beneath the other’s proud erection, making sure not to pull too hard to not hurt the man as he moves. He enjoys the louder groans the fall from precious lips when he does so, delights in that the man starts to thrust at an even faster pace into his mouth.

Senses on overload from the stimulation on three different parts of his body, Charles falls deaf to the loud moan that passes from his lips. He doesn't know which way to move - to push forward, to feel more of the wet heat of the butler's mouth, or to push back, to feel the ungloved finger making its way into his tight channel. 

Hips push back, as he feels his finger go deeper. As it finds its place, he thrusts forward, fingers gripping tight to the raven locks as he pushes his girth towards the back of his mouth. He grunts low, feet spreading apart wider as the hand on his sac continues to fondle him, wrecking havoc on his composure. He licks his suddenly dry lips, in an effort to ground himself, but it fails. It fails, miserably so. After one supple squeeze, and the touch of the finger inside of him, the moans he's been making finally register in his mind, one after another tumbling out, as he rocks his hips. Charles plummets, succumbing to his orgasm, showing no mercy to the man that has trapped his body to make him lose complete control.

The demon delights in every hit of the man’s meaty tip to the back of his throat, takes glee in how every thrust—backwards to his finger, forwards into his mouth—is further admission of Master Phipps’ stepping away from purity. Sebastian feels a warm rush in his own system as he observes the heightening of the man’s blood rush. He senses that the other’s orgasm is quickly approaching, and finds himself actively seeking for it.

When Queen’s butler’s seed rushes out from the tip he’d licked so desperately moments before, Sebastian readily receives Master Phipps—his libidinous drive, his fulfilling of selfish desires, his absolute surrender to these bodily pleasures, letting it consume every fibre of his being. The demon drinks the proof of their lecherous union, their becoming creatures of sheer sensual gratification. Sebastian thrives in it, celebrates this delirious thrill. He dares not part from the other’s leaking cock until he’s sure he’s drunk every filthy drip of seed, supporting the man upright when his strength leaves him, black tendrils keep him standing.

Sebastian gives the thick cock a few more sucks when he feels no more warm liquid falls down his throat. He takes the girth out of his mouth and licks the tip for good measure. It is only then he takes out his finger from the man’s hole (pity he couldn’t enter that tightness), and makes his tendrils guide Master Phipps down toward him. He kisses the lovely black spot by the man’s lips, eyes still crimson in his glee, as the other man heaves for breath. A man’s fall excites him so well.

“Does this satisfy you, my lord?”

Charles smells himself on the butler’s breath, his face becoming flush at the pungent scent. Lips at the corner of his mouth, so close to his own. Tilting his head towards the side, his lips hover close to the butler’s.

“If I say no?” The tip of his tongue runs along the butler’s top lip, a soft inhale allows him to taste himself, albeit it a very minuscule amount.

There is something about this man that is making his body respond to him in ways that another person has not inflicted in him before. He can feel the lower half of his body beginning to awaken again, as he inhales more of that unique scent. He wants to know if this man is affected by this play they’re engaging in, or if he’s just to be the benefactor of a hospitality that all guests receive at the Queen’s Watchdog’s manor. Their bodies are close, but not close enough for him to see if there is a similar hardness in the butler’s trousers, mirroring his thickening prick.

“If I say no?” The other says, and it sets Sebastian’s veins ablaze. To think that Master Phipps would offer the chance to let the demon taste more of him, his delirium, his frenzy, his fall. Sebastian is well pleased, feels a shiver down to the tips of his fingers when the man licks his top lip.

“Then we shall—” He stops and clears his throat, his voice having come out shaky when he spoke. The shrill of a pleased moan due to how close their lips had trapped his voice. “We shall continue.”

He effortlessly pulls the man up, and guides him to sit down on the chaise to make him more comfortable. Sebastian leans down towards the other’s face, putting his knee on the chaise between the other’s open legs, and kisses the the guest’s soft lips, his tongue darting in the space between open lips to lick at the other’s front teeth. “If you would allow me to undress…” He whispers, an ungloved finger tracing a line from the base of the other’s cock to its tip as he leans away, straightening his back.

Sebastian does not wait for the reply, simply watches the other’s eyes as he strips himself of his clothing. He first takes off his outer jacket, folding it neatly (and quickly) to hang upon the chaise’s armrest. He pulls off his shoes, undoes his waistcoat, unbuckles his belt. He lets his pants fall, first to his knees, then standing away from the chaise, lets it fall to the floor.

He absorbs the lust growing in the other’s eyes, the escalated rush of his blood, the satisfied shudder in the other’s shoulders when his clear blue eyes take the sight of the demon’s arousal. It is not quite as thick as the other’s own, but leaking and proud.

Sebastian grins, smug. “Words seem to have failed you, Master Phipps. Perhaps you want a taste?” The butler keeps the question ‘With your mouth, or with your ass?’ to himself.

Sitting up, Charles takes a look at the man’s arousal, and sees that his worries were all for naught. He reaches with both hands, settling them on the butler’s hips. With a gentle yank, he pulls him towards his face, lips ready to take the leaking tip into his mouth.

His tongue lands on the soft flesh, as he savors the man’s essence, the tanginess sweet and bitter on his palette. Looking up with lidded eyes, he sees that the butler is watching him. “As we are both without clothes, there is no need for title right now, Mr. Michaelis.” He flicks his tongue across the reddened flesh, moaning low as he closes his eyes, shying away from the man’s gaze. “Call me by my Christian name.”

He pulls the man’s arousal into his mouth, his tongue becoming acquainted with each small bump, each vein that stands up on the supple flesh. Gently sucking, the tip pushes against the roof of his mouth, his tongue sliding down the length with a low hum.

Call him by his _Christian_  name. Sebastian almost scoffs at that, but promptly catches himself from ruining this perfect mood. He understands what the man meant. He tests the name on his lips, opening his lips to mouth the name without voice while the other’s eyes are closed. He’s never had to practice a name other than ‘Ciel’ before.

Sebastian repeats the other’s name silently as he watches his arousal disappear into and reappear from the Queen’s butler’s mouth, over and over. His hands go to the other’s hair, loving how soft they feel underneath his ungloved hand. He wants to remove his other glove to feel more of these silk strands, but doesn’t to make sure his contract stays hidden.

And then an abrupt “ _Charles_ ,” falls loudly from his lips, mixed with a heavy groan that sends the ‘rl’ rolling. The Queen’s butler’s hands had grabbed his buttocks, and the spreading of the demon’s cheeks apart had caused him to groan out this name. Sebastian had planned to be coy, keep the name from being spoken aloud until they drowned deeper in pleasure, rotting in the frenzy of their passions, but the other pulled it from his throat with zeal now.

Sebastian finds himself groaning the name every so often to the rhythm of his sucking, pouring in a few “That feels good.” or “More.” He starts to shallowly thrust his hips, matching the other’s speed, properly timing his forward push to make the other swallow more of him, to sheathe his length to the hilt into the other’s hot, wet mouth. He leans his head back, letting himself be taken by pleasure, enjoys the deep hums when the other groans around his girth. The deep timbre to Master Phipps—Charles’ groans makes him wonder how intoxicatingly his name could be colored with that voice.

Bobbing his head, Charles swallows the man’s entire length into his mouth, nose resting upon black curls at the base. He inhales the butler’s musk, fingers now close to the same area that the butler’s had on his own body. His finger touches the velvet soft skin around his puckering entrance, testing the waters to see how this man would react to such a touch.

Almost choking on his girth, he pulls his lips back a little, as he keeps touching this area, waiting to hear the other man agree to the touch, or request that it be taken back. He tilts his head up, dragging his teeth gently across the rigid flesh between his lips, as he stares up into the man’s blood-red eyes.

Their eyes stay locked, as his finger breeches the tight ring of muscle, the sudden warmth around his finger makes his arousal swell. It wants to be in the place of his finger, spittle pooling out the sides of his mouth as he imagines what this man’s face will show him if he did dare to do such an act with him. He suckles on the tip, daring to add a second finger, which joins the first with ease.

How much further could this human ignite these pleasures from him? When the other teases his entrance, Sebastian feels the blood in his own veins surge heat, almost boiling. His fingers tighten upon silk hair, which still shines silver in the moonlight, and his chest heaves with labored breath, even though he has no need to breathe.

Sebastian is damn _excited_ , hasn’t been _this_  excited in _this_  manner a long while (perhaps never). His demon form dances underneath human skin, whirling to the beats of his human heart, completely enthralled. When the man’s finger intrudes between his cheeks, he realizes the answer to his question is still far from being found. If this mere finger feels amazing, then what more Charles’ girth, thick enough to have made his jaw ache moments earlier?

A shiver runs up his spine at the thought, just as the other inserts another digit into him. Sebastian keeps his eyes locked upon the other’s blue eyes, so clear with undisguised lust.

“Please,” he begs, pushing his hips backwards to make the fingers enter him further. The other man’s knuckles feel delightful against his cheeks. “Though it may be presumptuous of me to ask you, Mas—Charles.” He gyrates his hips a few more times, moans tumbling from his mouth as he thrusts forward into heated wet caverns, and backward to awaiting fingers. He whispers, desperation coating his deep, trembling voice. “If you would please, _please_ , enter me soon.”

He pulls away, licking his lips as the butler's arousal slips out of his mouth. He looks over at the bed, pulling his fingers out of him with ease. Charles stands up, and walks towards the bed. 

"I think this may be a bit more comfortable than the chaise, Mr. Michaelis." Lips curl up, his eyes meeting those red eyes.

He’s right beside Charles when the man suggests they move to the bed, not able to bear being apart from him, wants to keep the other’s presence—be it his touch, his scent, his sounds—near him, and followed him away from the chaise. Sebastian coils one arm around the other’s hip once he’s near enough, his other hand tugging hair near the nape of Charles’ neck. He leans in to kiss him, but not before licking on his beauty mark first. Then Sebastian inches towards the bed, lets himself fall upon it, feeling soft and smooth on his bottom. He pulls Charles on top of him by the arm, continues to kiss him, tongues swirling.

“Touch me,” He begs, as if he was powerless unless the man makes a move on him. He guides one hand to touch across his chest, then guides the other to reach around his bottom. Then he cranes his neck to whisper in the other’s ear. “And please, call me ‘Sebastian.’”

Moaning low, Charles shivers as warm breath touches his ear.

"Sebastian..." The name tastes unfamiliar, but feels good on his tongue. His hand grabs onto the man's backside, lifting up his leg to settle his own body there. His fingers slide over pert nipples, his nail scratching at the raised bump.

He rubs himself against the butler's girth, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Seeing only soft expressions cross his visage, Charles resettles himself between the man's thighs.

"Shall we stop, Sebastian?"

“No, please—” comes out in a trembling voice, light as a feather, tickling the upper part of his own throat. Sebastian gasps for air, for Charles’ hands have taken breath out of him, and the way his name rolls off those sweet lips—it only heightens his need to be taken by the man above him. “Let’s keep going, Charles.”

The demon is embarrassed for how whiney his own voice sounds to him, pleading and begging like the most pitiful creature in hell reaching out for a single strand of hope. But he gets lost in how ‘Charles’ falls naturally on his tongue, delights in that even through this mere act of calling each other’s names, they plunge deeper in pleasure. Yet— Yet somehow there’s something off, off—but not in a bad way. Nothing displeasing. The way Charles touches his body almost feels too… soft. And gentle. The kind that makes his chest fill with fluff, and it’s strange because he’s never felt this.

Centuries of living, diving into the pleasures of the body with countless humans before devouring them. Yet never has any of them touched him this way.

Sebastian almost fears it, this thing he’s not accustomed to, but the way Charles hovers above him, the other’s scent filling his lungs—all this keeps him chained to Charles, makes him open himself up to him and whatever else that may spur between them this night.

He lifts his other leg up to wrap around Charles’ hip, aiming to pull him down deeper. “Please don’t tell me _you_  want to stop? Am I not pleasing you enough, Charles?”

To hear this man’s plea for him not to stop, it makes Charles feel something in his chest that has not been there in quite some time. He has not lain with a man (nor woman) in what feels like an eternity. There is a part of him that wants to rush this, to just be careless, and allow himself to give into this overwhelming desire.

His lips alight on the base of the man’s neck, tasting the saltiness that has been left behind by the perspiration on his skin. It tastes almost as sweet as what this man’s arousal had tasted like. His lips begin to kiss the expanse of his chest, kissing one pert nipple, lapping at it slow as he listens to the soft moans that Sebastian makes, each one sounding more rapturous.

Charles looks up, and hears a question he does not expect to hear. Does it seem like he does not want this man? Can he not feel how aroused he is? How _alive_  he feels right now, his arousal barely touching the area he had just prepared with his fingers? He looks into his eyes, pushing away some of the raven hair that has fallen onto the man’s face, a soft smile touching his lips.

“Do you really think you are not pleasing me?” He pushes the tip of his arousal against the soft flesh, pushing against the tight ring of muscle, which accepts him with ease. He moans low, but does not break their contact as he pushes himself further into Sebastian’s body. “Maybe it is I that is not pleasing enough for _you_ , Sebastian.” He lowers his face, and kisses the man with a gentle kiss, pushing his hips forward, the warmth of his tight channel surrounding his arousal completely.

“Do you really think you are not pleasing me?” Charles had asked, and really, Sebastian knows the answer before he finishes asking. The demon can sense the truth in the other’s modest yet enthusiastic touches, in the other’s tender yet lustful gaze, in the other’s throbbing arousal, thick and leaking with need.

But he wants to _hear_  it. He wants _You feel so good, Sebastian._  to fall from that slick tongue the demon wants to slide against his once more. (More than a few times more.) He wants admissions of falling to this temptation of bodily pleasures with him.

Perhaps Charles’ entering him is his response. Actions speak louder than words, as they say. And really, silly demon, he reprimands himself. Humans tend to say opposite of what they mean to, if his current master is any proof of it. (But that only makes humans’ admission of truth all the more appetizing.)

“You feel _amazing_.” Sebastian responds to Charles’ statement of him not feeling pleasing enough, voice weak as it is dipped in the rapture of Charles’ pushing further into him. Shudders run upon his shoulders when Charles is a few thrusts in, and when the other leans down to kiss him, the shudders jolt throughout his body. It summons more of that fuzzy heat in his chest.

Sebastian pulls Charles down by the neck with one hand to keep him close, fingers going through short, soft strands. The other goes under Charles’ arm, clings unto his back, scratches skin red. “Let me hear _you_  say it. Do— _ah_ —Do I make you feel good?”

Groaning low, he presses his face against Sebastian’s neck, arching his back into this man’s touch. He thrusts his hips forward, sinking himself deeper into the warm heat of this man’s body. He lifts his head, just a little, to let his lips touch the shell of Sebastian’s ear. “No….” He licks the shell with the tip of his tongue, tracing a pattern from the tip to his lobe, biting down softly.

Charles moves his hips a little faster, the feeling of Sebastian’s arousal rutting against his lower stomach makes him feel alive. All traces of the alcohol which had made it impossible for him to sleep seems to have disappeared, and in its place, he becomes drunk off of this power. He never once imagined that the Queen’s Watchdog’s butler would be this way in the bedroom, always assuming this man was the one in command. And right now, Charles knows that Sebastian implored him to be inside of him, even though he would have willingly let this man take him instead.

He rolls his hips a little more, before whispering into his ear, “You make me feel _incredible_ , Sebastian.”

Sebastian first whines to the “No” Charles speaks, displeased at the response and its bitter taste of lies. He’d hoped Charles would stay pure, stay unlike other wicked humans who spout ugly false truths. He’d hoped Charles will only be tainted of this unchaste congress, during which the man had unceasingly offered the demon his honeyed corruption. (Because that’s what makes it fun. Painting a clear white canvas black.)

But then Charles licks his ear, bites its lobe even, and starts to thrust a little faster into him—and all of it distracts the demon from the disappointment, swoons him, and leaves him unguarded when Charles says, “You make me feel _incredible_ , Sebastian.”

The “You make me feel _incredible_ ” makes the demon feel absolute, all powerful, like all of the world is in his clutches and no one would dare challenge to take it from him. He feels strong, even though he meekly whimpers at the way Charles’ voice caresses his ears when he says his name. He pushes his ear against soft lips, tries to find teeth to make him bite again.

“Charles,” he says in the tune that cults have muttered incantations to summon him. He repeats the name, over and over as the other keeps thrusting into him. “Bite me,” he begs, voices the desire to be seeped in hurt, in the passion that loses oneself, a delight so great it turns pain into pleasure. He wonders if the man would be so gentle as to deny him of the request, or be sweet enough to oblige even when he does not want to hurt Sebastian. Regardless, Sebastian is sure, his decision would taste wonderful.

Eyes close, as the request permeates his mind. Lips pull back, his teeth gently biting down near the hollow of Sebastian's throat. He moans around his neck, as he pushes his hips forward hard, perhaps a little too hard. The fingers on his back seem to dig a little harder into his flesh, spurning him on to bite down rougher. A lower moan emits from his throat, as he alternates from biting to sucking. 

His arousal begins to swell more, his lower belly coiling tight. Letting go of the man's throat, he groan low in his ear. "I'm close, Sebastian...Can you feel me?" He licks his the shell of his ear, nibbling the top just as he had done before. "You're pulling me into oblivion..."

He surrenders to this pleasure, teeth gripping the flesh of Sebastian's shoulder, as he begins to set a relentless pace. Hips piston back and forth, as his arousal sinks deeper and deeper into this man's body, low moans tearing from his throat after each harsh thrust.

Sebastian’s jaw drops, falling lower as Charles bites down his neck, his moans growing silent as if he’s forgotten how to release his voice. The demon closes his eyes to focus on the touch, his fingers at the back of Charles’ nape pulling down the man to bite deeper. Only then—by how tight he holds Charles’ hair—does he realize he had torn his left glove off sometime earlier, perhaps when he was on the way to the bed. In this moment where he is so lost in Charles and in how Charles makes him feel _so_  tremendously _good_ , he takes favor in the feel of silk hair rather than worry over the risks of his contract being seen.

His mind swims in the fact that, just as he expected, the other man’s decision tastes delicious on his skin, prickling sparks upon his neck where he digs teeth. And Sebastian finds himself wanting it, or anywhere Charles touches him, to leave a mark.

The demon then feels the other thicken inside him (to which he hums pleasantly), starts to notice the stimulation in the other’s sweat gets to its most concentrated. Sebastian doesn’t need Charles to admit how close he is, doesn’t need him to ask if he can feel the other man, because Sebastian _can_ and Sebastian _knows_  Charles is close. But _bloody hell_  his confessions, right to the demon’s ear, nibbling its tip even, are of the utmost, succulent flavor, scrumptious to a fault. The man even dares top this demon’s elation with “You’re pulling me into oblivion…” which, truth be told, could have had Sebastian setting off his tendrils and consuming this man—body and precious, pure soul—right there and then. But he doesn’t.

Sebastian weighs the outcomes. Devour Charles’ body and soul for a moment that his demon stomach is filled, or _be_  devoured by this pleasure both Charles and he seeks, be consumed by this immense desire that popped seemingly out of no where. His answer is irrational, very much unlike himself, but it seems he hasn’t been _like himself_  for as long as he’d been in the presence of this Charles Phipps.

His hips buck to the rhythm Charles sets for them, meeting his thrusts halfway to help the man reach deeper, make their skins slap louder, summon more lust to consume them as their climax approaches. Sebastian takes one of Charles’s hands, guides it from his chest down to his arousal to stroke his aching need, help him reach completion. But he realizes then that Charles’ grunts unto the broken skin of his shoulder summons his climax closer even more effectively than the warm hand wrapped around his girth.

Rigid flesh touches his hand, Charles touching Sebastian’s arousal, pumping it with each thrust of his hips. He pulls his mouth away from his shoulder, lifting himself up to look at the man’s face, as he brings the two of them closer to their release. He can feel the man throb in the tight confines of his fist, the tightness around his own girth becoming quite constricting.

Eyes flash, capturing the flames of the fire (surely a trick of the light), Sebastian staring into his eyes as the bed rocks faster. A strained groan falls from Sebastian’s mouth, as Charles feels warmth begin to coat his hand, his own body close to his orgasm. He does not allow himself to finish, not until he knows the man beneath him has had his fill of their coupling. Only when the wetness ebbs from the tip of Sebastian’s arousal does Charles start to slam hard into his body. A few thrusts later, his head falls forward, forehead resting against Sebastian’s, as he moans into the man’s mouth, his orgasm consuming his body, his entire being overwhelmed by their intense fornication.

Sebastian is ashamed that—although it has never happened in the centuries he’s lived—he has now been so steeped in pleasure (and in the very essence of this supposed lowly creature) that he comes before the human he engages this act with does. Sex—meaningless and messy, a mere way of getting information, or perhaps a wondrous appetizer before consumption of a human’s soul—has always simply stayed as sex, yet now—

 _Now_. Charles watches the changes on his features as his juices spurt between their stomachs. Sebastian wants to shy away from such resolute eyes, such a deep gaze, but he can’t turn away from how they sparkle gloriously even in the darkness. He can’t help, but stare into them, drown in them, even more so as the other’s high comes over him, slamming harder than he ever had the rest of the night. As Charles moans into his mouth, he partakes of the lust in the other’s breath, divinely prurient, libidinously pure.

The other collapses on top of him once all his warm juices have spurted into Sebastian’s ass, a heat the demon quite enjoys, a testament to their exquisite debauchery. He whimpers when the other pulls out of him, the other’s come squirting out when he does, making the demon groan pleased at the feeling of hot liquid oozing out of him.

Sebastian wraps his arms around the other’s waist to keep Charles above him, enjoys the human’s warmth that passes to him as they lie together in their nakedness. His eyes are closed to concentrate on this heat, delighting in the other’s breath by his ear. He can still feel his shoulder throb from Charles’ bite, and he hisses when he feels the other press his lips upon it. He turns his head to plant a kiss on Charles’ cheek, unknowing of what to say. _Are you satisfied_  now _?_   _Shall I dress you, Master Phipps? May I stay here until morning?_

“I am sure that there are things you were to attend to, before you caught me trying to leave my room.” Charles’ voice comes out raw, resting his head against Sebastian’s shoulder. He takes a few moments to collect himself, then very carefully moves his body to lay on the bed beside him, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, still trying to catch his breath. “It is not necessary to remain here with me. I can assure you, I will be alright.”

He turns on his side, to take in the appearance of the man who holds the same title as himself. Two butlers, one who serves the Queen, and one who does as the Queen asks, joining together for this one moment. Charles is not sure how he will be in the morning, having to put on airs. He’s done so before in different situations, but after this night, he is afraid that his attitude towards Sebastian will be noticeable.

Reaching over, he pushes some of the hair that has fallen back onto his cheek. “As I said before, this stays between us.” His thumb brushes along Sebastian’s cheekbone, trailing down to cup the side of his face. He wants to tell this man that he would like to share a bed with him again, but knows that given their respective employers, doing so will be quite the challenge. “Thank you for this evening.” He does not say what is on his lips, wishing he could just say thanks for the incredible sex, but decorum prevents him from answering truthfully.

Charles’ voice rings forlornly in the demon’s ears as he speaks. The other’s words taste bitter with the heavy weight of reality—this can only happen tonight. Sebastian knows it won’t be easy meeting to partake of such sweet pleasure once more, or to even simply gaze upon Charles’ handsome features. (Even more difficult, granted that the _other_  Charles is rather fond of coming here alone, if only to piss the young master off.) So he wants to prolong this night, this precious time with this Charles Phipps that sets his existence ablaze, if only for a moment more. He would quite rather keep drowning himself in Charles.

“It is of my utmost pleasure that I had spent this evening with you… Charles.” He hesitates, pushes, testing the name on his lips much like he did earlier that night. He’s unsure if he should resume calling him Master Phipps. “I shall make sure that what we’ve partaken of here shall indeed stay between us.”

He sits up, Charles’ hands falling from his face leaving it cold. He motions to stand up from the edge of the bed, but then moves back beside Charles, hovering the other’s face with his own. “But before I fetch towels to clean you with, may I request one thing?”

With Sebastian’s face so close to his, he feels a tug in his stomach, body becoming flush with a sudden desire to pull this man closer to him. Instead, he meets his maroon eyes, stares into them, trying to find something to hold on to, to keep this moment from ending.

“What is your request?” He asks, voice soft and imploring, curiosity taking control.

Sebastian stares into blue orbs, still clear with desire for him. He drinks it, submerges himself in it, this attraction that keeps him wanting and waiting for more Charles.

“May I lay with you until morning comes?” Sebastian swallows, finding difficulty in voicing the request. He feels it makes him appear weak, lets him admit a certain fragility to himself. “I assure you I have nothing to attend to until the cock crows at six.”

He could have asked for something else. Another kiss. Another hug. A promise they would meet once more to engage once more in pleasures they can only offer each other. He knows he’s missed the chance to. Stupid demon. This is what happens when he doesn’t give himself enough time to think things through.

Surprised by the request, Charles does not know what to say. His voice fails him, but his actions do not. He reaches up, and pulls Sebastian close to him, kissing him with a soft kiss, before pulling him to rest against his body.

“I do not move very much while I slumber,” he admits a little shyly. “I will not hold too tight, in case you prefer to shift in your sleep.”

Closing his eyes, a small smile pulls at his lips, as he revels in how _nice_  it feels to have someone laying next to him in such a manner. The warmth Sebastian’s body provides aides his body to relax completely, keeping himself vulnerable to the man resting next to him. A quiet snore expels from his lips, Charles now fast asleep.

Sebastian had expected Charles would simply let him lie down next to him, but to actually be in his arms as they sleep? Perhaps this is what heaven feels like. (Not that Sebastian would ever be welcome through its gates.) If so, then heaven is as wonderful as the gods he’d encountered had promised he will never get to experience for all eternity. (Joke’s on them. He’s in paradise just fine.)

He observes Charles as slumber claims him, delights in the other’s warmth against his skin, thinking it feels quite more delightful than when he lays beside his young master. (Sebastian thinks it’s because of their size. There’s more warmth to feel with Charles’ adult body.) He presses his lips against the other’s, kisses various spots—including that mark by the other’s lips he’s taken a liking to—softly as he could so he wouldn’t wake the other. Half an hour passes before Sebastian falls asleep, though he normally doesn’t. Charles’ soothing aura had calmed him down enough so he may rest.

Sebastian’s eyes quickly open when it is six o’clock. He wakes up to Charles with his arms still around the demon, not having shifted in his sleep as he’d mentioned. Sebastian wants to gaze upon his sweet features a moment longer, but he knows he must return to his duties. He presses one last kiss upon the other’s mole, then moves to escape the other’s arms—a heavy anchor in his chest when he leaves the space beside Charles empty.

He puts on his clothes, and gets ready for a day he’s sure would feel long, for after breakfast, he will have to part ways with a human as delicious as Charles Phipps.

*****

The sun streams through the drapes, bringing Charles out of his slumber. That, and a loud knocking on the door. He sits up, and finds a dressing gown covering his body, surprised by its presence.

“Charles, wake UP. We need to GO.” He hears the other Charles say from the other side of the door.

“Give me five minutes. I will meet you outside.” He calls out, glad that the male did not burst into the room, as he has done in the past back in their quarters at Buckingham Palace.

“Hurry UP.”

He gets dressed, touching his neck, hoping that any marks that may have been left behind are hidden beneath his white uniform. Adjusting his coat, he leaves the bedroom, after tidying up just a tiny bit, and makes his way towards the front of the manor.

When he walks down the stairs, he sees Charles Grey standing with a look of utmost hatred on his face, the Queen’s Watchdog and his butler standing opposite him. He walks towards Charles, and turns towards the young Earl.

“We appreciate your hospitality last night, my lord.” He bows his head, keeping it low as a sign of respect.

“It is only my duty to ensure your comfort, Master Phipps, Earl Grey.” says his young master, standing tall and proud despite his smaller statue compared to the one bowing to him. He glares daggers at the other. “I wish you safe travels on the way back to the palace.”

The two bow to the master of the house. (Earl Grey seems to frown as he bows so.) Ciel then orders Sebastian to show the guests out, to which the butler obliges.

He walks to the front entrance, opens the door and bows from the side as the two walk through the door. He follows the two to where their carriage awaits them, the footman, Snake, reining the horses. Earl Grey is first to enter the carriage, strangely shooting the footman a look before he disappears into the carriage.

Once Master Phipps has step foot into the carriage, Sebastian slides his hand up the other’s back, disguised as helping him into the carriage. He coughs into his hand when he sees a light pink to the other’s cheeks once he’s seated, a color perhaps indistinguishable to the human eye.

“We hope to see you soon, gentlemen.” Sebastian offers a polite smile to the two of them, genuine for only one. “Please come over to visit any time.”

His back grows warm at where gloved fingertips touch. “Thank you, Mr. Michaelis.” He takes his seat in the carriage, pulling the door shut, finger touching the white gloved hand that rests on the carriage door. “Again, please do let the young Earl know that we are grateful for your hospitality last night. We shall see you again soon.”

“Not _too_  soon,” the other Charles remarks under his breath.

The carriage pulls away, Charles resisting the urge to look out, and instead faces forward, keeping his face blank. “I’m looking forward to a nice, hot shower.” His companion remarks, stretching his feet out in the carriage. “The bed that I slept on was shit.”

“Yes, a shower does sound nice.” Charles closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he smells Sebastian’s scent still clinging to his body. Maybe he will take a shower later on in the day, for he does not want this smell to disappear too quickly. A nice reminder of the events which took place the night before.


End file.
